[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Zarubayev's blood dripped off the platform, slow and scarlet, slow and scarlet. Dozsa snarled at the
edge. Caitlin stood by him now, wild of countenance, cursing in a torrent, but swinging her weapon
steadily back and forth.
What Troxell will try to do is to block us from freeing the prisoners.
Brodersen's paralysis broke. It had only lasted a few seconds. "Hold the fort!" he shouted. "Keep
well covered! We'll be back!" He swarmed along a short circular staircase to the elevator.
Weisenberg and Leino were there. The senior engineer had obviously had to restrain the junior from
rushing up to join the battle, which would have been useless or worse. They were still wrestling. "Let's
go," Brodersen said, and pushed the button for it.
The elevator was little more than a steel slab at right angles to a belt which carried it. Three more
served the same passageway. Between them, easy to step onto, were ladders, liberally supplied with
resting places. Those were for emergency use. The shaft extended almost nine hundred meters. Staring
into its bleakly illuminated depths, Brodersen saw it converge in perspective on an atom-small terminus,
and dizziness touched him.
Weisenberg sagged down onto a bench and stared at the floor. "Eli, Eli," he mumbled, "that this had
to be."
Leino, on his feet, gripped the rail as if to crumple it and shook his rifle aloft. His Upland speech
came raw: "They fell on their own deeds, they swinehounds."
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"We're not done with them yet." Brodersen's response was mechanical. Most of him howled, I led
Pegeen into this, Pegeen. "I feel sure they hope to catch us at the auditorium."
Weisenberg glanced up, instantly alert. "Can they?"
"Dunno. You heard what I managed to worm out of Troxell concerning the layout here. I didn't dare
push too hard."
"Jesu Kriste," Leino groaned, "this thing crawls."
"It's meant to," Weisenberg told him. "Change of gravity and air pressure. You need time to adapt.
Whichever the enemy takes won't be any faster. And they retreated spinward from us. The auditorium is
antispinward from here. We'll have a slight jump on them."
"Yes, and just the three of us have them outgunned," Brodersen added. "Sit yourself, Martti. Recover
your strength."
He set an example, after choosing a rifle from Leino's load, but his mind gave no cooperation.
Pegeen. Lis. Barbara. Mike. The stars.
Once as a boy, on a sail cruise through the San Juan Islands, he'd developed a galloping earache.
There was nothing to do but endure until the drum broke and relieved the satanic pain. That took a
couple of hours. This five-minute ride felt longer.
But then it ended. He led the way in a rush, up a stairwell which continued past the hatch to the deck.
For the hundred-odd meters he could see until curvature blocked vision, the corridor lifted before him
like a ramp. Though he was never climbing the while he pounded through its hollowness, Earth weight
dragged at him. Breath surged rough in his gullet.
A double door beneath a photomural, Armstrong on Luna- He'd expected to shoot out the lock, but
the fastening was a mere latch, a steel bar between two brackets that must have been hastily welded on
after he called from space. He cast it loose and flung the portal wide.
Ranked in their hundreds, seats confronted a stage as empty as they were. Nearby, the Emissary
explorers rose in amazement. Most were sloppily clad, they blurred together for Brodersen as he sped
toward them, until he saw belle-Judas priest, her hair is gray, she's skinny, well, eight years- He saw the
alien, chimerical cross between an otter, a lobster, a seal, a duck, a kangaroo, an alligator, a porpoise,
no, none of those really, nothing he could name, nothing his vision was ready for, a brown blur- "We're
springing you!" he bawled. "We're your friends! We're getting out of here! Joelle, do you know me?"
"Freedom, freedom, freedom!" Leino chanted.
A tall man stepped out of the group. Brodersen recognized Captain Langendijk. Weisenberg ran to
meet him. Brodersen and Joelle stopped, stared, held out hands toward each other.
Weisenberg and Langendijk halted. "This is a rescue," the engineer said between gasps. "You're
unlawfully held-we've come to set you free-make the truth known-we've met resistance- may have to
fight our way back to our ship-here, arm yourselves -- "
"Dan," Joelle marveled. Her eyes were enormous, ebony, in the ivory face.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
He collected his wits. "Hurry along," he wheezed, and caught her by the wrist. She in turn gestured at
the nonhuman, which moved toward her.
A man joined them. "Daniel!" he exclaimed. "Por todos los santos -- " Carlos Francisco Miguel
Rueda Suarez. He had grown bald.
A hefty blond woman followed. Brodersen recalled fleetingly the name Frieda von Moltke. The rest
milled, bewildered. Brodersen started back up the aisle he was in. It wouldn't do to get blockaded.
"Hurry, hurry!" he shouted. Once beyond the doors, Weisenberg and Leino could pass out the stuff
they carried. After that, let Troxell beware. His engineers were at Brodersen's heels, yelling, waving. Still
most of the captives dithered. Langendijk urged them on, but they weren't soldiers, nor bound by the
heart to these wild invaders. Clamor and weapons roused an instinct to hide. They needed a few minutes
for comprehension.
Brodersen re-entered the corridor. His right hand gripped his rifle, his left Joelle. The alien tagged
close behind her. Leino came immediately after. Weisenberg paused in the doorway to beckon at the
laggards. Von Moltke took the chance to work a tommy gun loose from the bundle on his back. Rueda
Suarez started to do likewise.
Down the bend of the deck came Troxell and his men. Their front rank carried by the legs a couple
of large tables, tops facing forward-shields.
Brodersen could never afterward quite remember what happened. A new fight erupted. He and
those with him backed down the hail; they zigzagged, they knelt, they dropped, they ran further, they
kept shooting, and somehow none of them was hit. Somehow the enemy was gone when they reached
the next spoke.
He guessed their fire had been too heavy, allowing pistols too little chance to be effective. Or the
agents had run low on ammo. Or both. Troxell would have kept enough to hold trapped the Emissary
people who'd not moved out at once. A return to the auditorium would be suicide.
Joelle shook Brodersen back to full awareness. "Listen, Dan, we must go to a particular storeroom.
Fidelio -the Betan- the alien here can't eat our food. We have supplies for him."
"Huh?" he said. "No. Too risky."
"Not if we hurry," Rueda snapped. "Almighty God, Daniel, Fidelio's our link to his entire race!"
"Okay," Brodersen decided. "Lead us. On the double."
The storeroom wasn't far off, nor was it locked, and the rations were packed handily for carrying,
apparently mostly freeze-dried. Burdened, the party sought the nearest shaft, piled on the elevator, and
rode it to the hub.
They said almost nothing on the way. They were stunned. Brodersen counted: himself, Joelle, the
alien, Weisenberg, Rueda, Leino, von Moltke. Four saved; well, that was plenty, if they could bear
witness at Earth. If not, he'd be footnoted in history as a desperado who got killed in a raid he attempted
for an obscure purpose.
The elevator delivered them. They sped down a hail that was sharply rounded. There was the
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
platform. There stood Pegeen, Dozsa, Pegeen, Pegeen. She cheered. Brodersen did not see Zarubayev, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Zarubayev's blood dripped off the platform, slow and scarlet, slow and scarlet. Dozsa snarled at the
edge. Caitlin stood by him now, wild of countenance, cursing in a torrent, but swinging her weapon
steadily back and forth.
What Troxell will try to do is to block us from freeing the prisoners.
Brodersen's paralysis broke. It had only lasted a few seconds. "Hold the fort!" he shouted. "Keep
well covered! We'll be back!" He swarmed along a short circular staircase to the elevator.
Weisenberg and Leino were there. The senior engineer had obviously had to restrain the junior from
rushing up to join the battle, which would have been useless or worse. They were still wrestling. "Let's
go," Brodersen said, and pushed the button for it.
The elevator was little more than a steel slab at right angles to a belt which carried it. Three more
served the same passageway. Between them, easy to step onto, were ladders, liberally supplied with
resting places. Those were for emergency use. The shaft extended almost nine hundred meters. Staring
into its bleakly illuminated depths, Brodersen saw it converge in perspective on an atom-small terminus,
and dizziness touched him.
Weisenberg sagged down onto a bench and stared at the floor. "Eli, Eli," he mumbled, "that this had
to be."
Leino, on his feet, gripped the rail as if to crumple it and shook his rifle aloft. His Upland speech
came raw: "They fell on their own deeds, they swinehounds."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"We're not done with them yet." Brodersen's response was mechanical. Most of him howled, I led
Pegeen into this, Pegeen. "I feel sure they hope to catch us at the auditorium."
Weisenberg glanced up, instantly alert. "Can they?"
"Dunno. You heard what I managed to worm out of Troxell concerning the layout here. I didn't dare
push too hard."
"Jesu Kriste," Leino groaned, "this thing crawls."
"It's meant to," Weisenberg told him. "Change of gravity and air pressure. You need time to adapt.
Whichever the enemy takes won't be any faster. And they retreated spinward from us. The auditorium is
antispinward from here. We'll have a slight jump on them."
"Yes, and just the three of us have them outgunned," Brodersen added. "Sit yourself, Martti. Recover
your strength."
He set an example, after choosing a rifle from Leino's load, but his mind gave no cooperation.
Pegeen. Lis. Barbara. Mike. The stars.
Once as a boy, on a sail cruise through the San Juan Islands, he'd developed a galloping earache.
There was nothing to do but endure until the drum broke and relieved the satanic pain. That took a
couple of hours. This five-minute ride felt longer.
But then it ended. He led the way in a rush, up a stairwell which continued past the hatch to the deck.
For the hundred-odd meters he could see until curvature blocked vision, the corridor lifted before him
like a ramp. Though he was never climbing the while he pounded through its hollowness, Earth weight
dragged at him. Breath surged rough in his gullet.
A double door beneath a photomural, Armstrong on Luna- He'd expected to shoot out the lock, but
the fastening was a mere latch, a steel bar between two brackets that must have been hastily welded on
after he called from space. He cast it loose and flung the portal wide.
Ranked in their hundreds, seats confronted a stage as empty as they were. Nearby, the Emissary
explorers rose in amazement. Most were sloppily clad, they blurred together for Brodersen as he sped
toward them, until he saw belle-Judas priest, her hair is gray, she's skinny, well, eight years- He saw the
alien, chimerical cross between an otter, a lobster, a seal, a duck, a kangaroo, an alligator, a porpoise,
no, none of those really, nothing he could name, nothing his vision was ready for, a brown blur- "We're
springing you!" he bawled. "We're your friends! We're getting out of here! Joelle, do you know me?"
"Freedom, freedom, freedom!" Leino chanted.
A tall man stepped out of the group. Brodersen recognized Captain Langendijk. Weisenberg ran to
meet him. Brodersen and Joelle stopped, stared, held out hands toward each other.
Weisenberg and Langendijk halted. "This is a rescue," the engineer said between gasps. "You're
unlawfully held-we've come to set you free-make the truth known-we've met resistance- may have to
fight our way back to our ship-here, arm yourselves -- "
"Dan," Joelle marveled. Her eyes were enormous, ebony, in the ivory face.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
He collected his wits. "Hurry along," he wheezed, and caught her by the wrist. She in turn gestured at
the nonhuman, which moved toward her.
A man joined them. "Daniel!" he exclaimed. "Por todos los santos -- " Carlos Francisco Miguel
Rueda Suarez. He had grown bald.
A hefty blond woman followed. Brodersen recalled fleetingly the name Frieda von Moltke. The rest
milled, bewildered. Brodersen started back up the aisle he was in. It wouldn't do to get blockaded.
"Hurry, hurry!" he shouted. Once beyond the doors, Weisenberg and Leino could pass out the stuff
they carried. After that, let Troxell beware. His engineers were at Brodersen's heels, yelling, waving. Still
most of the captives dithered. Langendijk urged them on, but they weren't soldiers, nor bound by the
heart to these wild invaders. Clamor and weapons roused an instinct to hide. They needed a few minutes
for comprehension.
Brodersen re-entered the corridor. His right hand gripped his rifle, his left Joelle. The alien tagged
close behind her. Leino came immediately after. Weisenberg paused in the doorway to beckon at the
laggards. Von Moltke took the chance to work a tommy gun loose from the bundle on his back. Rueda
Suarez started to do likewise.
Down the bend of the deck came Troxell and his men. Their front rank carried by the legs a couple
of large tables, tops facing forward-shields.
Brodersen could never afterward quite remember what happened. A new fight erupted. He and
those with him backed down the hail; they zigzagged, they knelt, they dropped, they ran further, they
kept shooting, and somehow none of them was hit. Somehow the enemy was gone when they reached
the next spoke.
He guessed their fire had been too heavy, allowing pistols too little chance to be effective. Or the
agents had run low on ammo. Or both. Troxell would have kept enough to hold trapped the Emissary
people who'd not moved out at once. A return to the auditorium would be suicide.
Joelle shook Brodersen back to full awareness. "Listen, Dan, we must go to a particular storeroom.
Fidelio -the Betan- the alien here can't eat our food. We have supplies for him."
"Huh?" he said. "No. Too risky."
"Not if we hurry," Rueda snapped. "Almighty God, Daniel, Fidelio's our link to his entire race!"
"Okay," Brodersen decided. "Lead us. On the double."
The storeroom wasn't far off, nor was it locked, and the rations were packed handily for carrying,
apparently mostly freeze-dried. Burdened, the party sought the nearest shaft, piled on the elevator, and
rode it to the hub.
They said almost nothing on the way. They were stunned. Brodersen counted: himself, Joelle, the
alien, Weisenberg, Rueda, Leino, von Moltke. Four saved; well, that was plenty, if they could bear
witness at Earth. If not, he'd be footnoted in history as a desperado who got killed in a raid he attempted
for an obscure purpose.
The elevator delivered them. They sped down a hail that was sharply rounded. There was the
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
platform. There stood Pegeen, Dozsa, Pegeen, Pegeen. She cheered. Brodersen did not see Zarubayev, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]